Method to Madness
by Blinded Ryter
Summary: Because of Brendon, Ryan comes to realize that love is the equivalent of the method to madness, and the recipe for self-destruction. Rydon. Slash.


**Method to Madness**  
_By Blinded Ryter_

001

George Ryan Ross III was your typical quiet shy boy that did nothing, but write in dozens of tattered spirals and hide behind a thick novel. He was an icon for the girls (and perhaps even the boys) to gaze at while conjuring romantic fantasies in their minds for his soft and gentle features were attractive, even though he appeared to be handsome in a delicate and feminine way. Ryan's personality went hand in hand with his looks. His nature was kind, polite, and simply nice, but he was _too_ soft, _too_ gentle, _too_ timid for his own good. Ryan was the perfect acquaintance, but was too reserved and introvert to even think about being friends with. He was a loner to be aquaintanted with, but in the end, a misfit nonetheless.

Life at school became a routine for Ryan, and nothing was quite different from life at home. His parents, his mother a CEO, and his father a director, were always away for business trips which could last for more than half a year at times. Therefore, Ryan didn't speak at home or at school. He wasn't given much of a chance (or have the desire) to interact with people period. Kids at school tried several times to get through to Ryan, whether it be out of good will or pity, but all attempts failed.

Simply put, Ryan Ross did not like people.

Being alone was his comfort zone, and "his world" was more favorable over "the world".

Then, came along Brendon Urie to turn both worlds up-side down and inside out.

Brendon transferred to Ryan's high school in the middle of the first semester. There wasn't anything quite interesting about Brendon by first glance. Sure, he was attractive, and had a nice smile, but Ryan couldn't care less about outer appearances. If he learned anything from observing his peers in silence was that there was a difference between being "hot" and "beautiful". "Hot" referred to those girls with the perfect curves and the guys with the toned bodies. "Beautiful" meant digging a bit deeper and seeing the worth of someone's heart, their character, and morals.

Ryan was looking for someone beautiful, but he had yet to find one true stunning beauty. If not anything, he was surrounded by grotesque and utterly ugly people. After some time, he simply gave up, and held no interest in finding anyone beautiful people. It was a waste of time.

Ryan assumed that Brendon would just be another "emo/skater" kid that flocked around those popular girls always drowning in teenage drama. Another kid that was more concerned about his hair than his grades, another kid to ask Ryan to copy his answers, another ignorant human being that could not think for themselves, another superficial fake.

But who was Ryan to judge others? It wasn't his place, and bluntly put, he didn't give a shit about this Brendon Urie at the moment. Brendon was nothing, but a name to Ryan, but that was soon to change as their paths continued to keep crossing. Ryan didn't know whether to consider it an omen or a blessing that he had every single class with the new kid. Ryan noticed this right away, and when Brendon did, the two kept making eye contact. Ryan was unnerved by the exchanged glances, while Brendon looked curious for the most part.

Ryan was more than ready to go home to the empty one-story house that day when he entered his final class: Advanced Creative Writing II Honors. The year ten student took his seat near the window, and as he settled down, he wasn't surprised to see Brendon waltz into the room from the corner of his eye. Now, Ryan was just beginning to feel annoyed and chafed, which were alien emotion to him. He asked himself how he could be irritated merely by the presence of a stranger, because it felt so shallow of him.

"Well, Brendon," Ryan heard Mr. Grayson say in the front of the class room, "why don't you take your seat behind Ryan Ross?" The middle-aged man turned his gaze to Ryan. "Ryan, give a wave."

Ryan gave half of a wave and he did so even in a shy manner, if that was even possible with such a simple gesture. Something sparked in Brendon's eyes when he recognized Ryan. Grinning, Brendon walked down the aisle, and sat behind Ryan. Ryan's body went rigid quite visibly, but he didn't dare throw a glance over his shoulder, because he could feel Brendon's gaze upon him and drilling a hole through his being.

Fortunately, the bell rang for class to begin, causing Ryan's attention divert to Mr. Grayson as he presented today's lesson. They were relating the subject of "secrets" to a piece of literature they recently read.

"A secret is not a secret even if you mention that you have a secret, just like Critsta did," said the teacher. "Even if you write it down on paper, such as a diary, it is bound to be found, and read. Now, this isn't Health class or Sociology class, but your portfolio assignment for this literature is quite simple. All you need to do is confess a secret on a decorated note card, post card, or even small card-stock. You can turn your card in an envelope to me, so no one will see your secret."

Excited murmuring began to buzz in the air, and the students started to cast glances at one another.

"I want three pages minimum," Mr. Grayson continued, thus evoking a series of groans from the classroom, "with elaboration of your secret, then analysis and reevalutation of Crista's secret. Supported quotes are required, along with the correct formatting. Any other information is on your rubric. The final due date is on the rubric as well. You can begin to brainstorm today and ask me questions if you'd like."

Once Mr. Grayson was finished with his explanation, a soft uproar broke out across the room. The students talked excitedly with one another about what their "secret" was going to be, and complained about the essay part. Ryan fumbled with the pen in his hand as he pondered about what "secret" to choose.

_"I know that my mother is having an affair with another man."_

_"I am a terrifically talented pretender."_

_"I cannot love myself."_

_"My father's probably having an affair too."_

_"I don't want to be loved by another human being. Ever."_

In the midst of his musing, Brendon rose from his chair, and approached Mr. Grayson's desk. For some odd reason, Ryan watched the new kid, feeling just a tad bit intrigued, but the curiosity died away when Mr. Grayson met Ryan's eyes and gestured for him to come up to him. Holding back a frown, Ryan reluctantly obliged and walked to Mr. Grayson's desk.

"Ryan, you wouldn't mind helping Brendon, would you?" Mr. Grayson inquiered. "Just tell him the important parts of the story and elaborate on them, since there won't be enough time to read the entire novel over the weekend. Of course, though, this is merely an offer, not a demand."

"No, I'd be pleased to do it," Ryan said smoothly with a flawless smile.

Mr. Grayson smiled and thanked Ryan before the two boys turned and returned to their seats. Ryan sighed inwardly, but kept an optimistic composure on the outside.

"So, have you ever read the book?" Ryan asked as he began flipping through the novel, wondering where he should start.

Brendon didn't respond in any manner for a prolonged moment that Ryan wondered if he had spoken too softly, or if Brendon was just planning on ignoring Ryan and expecting Ryan to tell him what to write and do. In other words, slack off. Just as Ryan was about to repeat himself, Brendon's eyes flickered up from the opened book, and to the other boy.

"What are you hiding behind that mask of yours, pretty boy?" said Brendon with an amused light dancing in his eyes.

Heat surfaced onto Ryan's face as a rise was given out of him slightly. He kept his voice cool and face passive, but felt offense taken nonetheless. How could this kid be so straight-forward, and yet...be truthful at the same time?

How could he have seen through the facade? One of the many farces created over the years?

_How?_

"Are you calling me a fake?" Ryan asked on a neutral level.

Brendon shrugged on shoulder casually.

"If you want to think of it as that way, sure, why not?" Brendon replied with a grin.

Ryan pressed his lips into a thin and firm line, but he knew that his persona was too timid and mentally weak to even manage to glare at Brendon. Ryan suddenly felt drained, emotionally and physically. The brown-haired boy let out a quiet sigh and pushed the fringe of his bang out of his eye.

Deciding upon evading the subject Brendon brought up, Ryan explained the story, play to be exact, the class had just finished reading. Fortunately, Brendon didn't interrupt Ryan, and actually proven himself to be quite bright and intelligent. Perhaps even brilliant with his out of the box, yet deep and logical comments.

"What's this MLA format?" Brendon asked, looking up from the scribbled notes.

Ryan blinked. "It's nation-wide-"

"I moved here from Wales."

"Oh," Ryan said. "Um...it's the heading. You write your name here, then this, and this...No comma before quotation parenthes..."

"You play guitar?"

Ryan raised an eyebrow, though he kept his composure in check.

"Yes, I do..." Ryan answered slowly with chary. "How did you know?"

"Your fingertips and certain areas on the underside of your fingertips are callous."

"Well, then, you are very observant, Urie" Ryan remarked as he struggled to hide how uncomfortable he felt.

Just what else did Brendon already know about him?

"And you write songs, right?" Brendon added as he gestured to the spiral underneath the text book.

Ryan exhaled through gritted teeth, but this time, the heavy sigh was hinted with frustration.

"Urie, you sound like a fucking stalker, okay?" the boy snapped. "Stop making it seem like you know me, because you don't. You only know what I do, not who I am."

Brendon chuckled quietly. "Alright," he simply said. "Mmm, you wanna come over to my house or vice versa, so we can work on the project together?"

Ryan stared at Brendon with a mixture of disbelief and deadpanning expressed on his face. Didn't Brendon get it that Ryan was aggravated with him, thus not wanting to spend any time with him?

"It's not a partner project," Ryan protested weakly.

"But it'll be fun!" Brendon insisted, smiling broadly. Brendon paused as he jabbed Ryan's side, causing him to jump, and squirm in his seat. Brendon giggled. "C'mon, it won't hurt."

Ryan bit the inside of his cheek as he settled down. He couldn't give any lame excuse that he had something to do, because Ryan never did, and Ryan was a terrible liar, or at least the person he portrayed to public eyes was meant to be. And yet, spending time with someone? Hanging out? That was so...alien, strange...so weird for Ryan.

"Fine," Ryan finally answered in defeat. "But I don't get it. I'm just a stranger, so why...?"

"Because I like you, Ryan," answered Brendon without a moment of demur. "You're a good kid, or, well, you put on that kind of façade."

"I'm not a fake," Ryan nearly growled with brows knitted into a scowl.

Brendon smiled to himself. "Sorry, kid, but your eyes give you away," he remarked lightly before the bell rang. "You wanna come over my house on Friday?" he asked as he stood.

Ryan could feel a headache beginning to throb in the back of his skull. "Yeah, sure," he said absently as he gathered his things.

"Awesome!" Brendon chimed, his face beaming. "See you tomorrow, and thanks for the help," he added, before walking off.

Ryan watched Brendon leave with his left eye twitching as he wondered, _'What the hell was that?'_ Swearing to himself about the mess he had gotten into and muttering nasty remarks about Welsh people, Ryan quickly left the room, and headed home, wishing that he could have someone to talk to about this strange Brendon Urie.

---

_Blinded Ryter:_ This is one of my favorite stories from my Mibba account (:  
Thank-you for reading. Feedback is greatly appreciated!


End file.
